


The Lucky One

by maniac_pixie_dreamgirl



Series: Red [3]
Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-12
Updated: 2013-03-12
Packaged: 2017-12-05 01:20:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/717225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maniac_pixie_dreamgirl/pseuds/maniac_pixie_dreamgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Someone else left the apartment after me.”</p><p>“Who…?” asks Jehan</p><p>“ Was it the Gallery Guy again?” Even Eponine is shocked.</p><p>“Yeah,” admits Grantaire, and shrugs his arms dismissively.</p><p>“Nice one, R! Ponine told me he’s a hottie!” Courfeyrac smiles and messes Grantaire’s hair. “Fix me up with one of his friends will ya? I’ve been feeling a little bit lonely recently.”</p><p>“Can we just focus on the cat? Some of us have other things to do…” Enjolras does not like this conversation- for some reason it’s as annoying as getting a splinter under a nail. He can’t believe that Grantaire is still seeing that guy- what’s up with that? Is he that good in bed? Because there’s no way Grantaire could fall for someone that ordinary, someone who would be too stupid to close the damn window. Someone…</p><p> <br/>College AU. Thirteen friends. Five love stories. One cat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Lucky One

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't plan on writing this one, it was time for some angst, but this idea came into my mind and I just rolled with it.  
> They might be a little OOC this time.  
> Special thanks for my friend Tom for being my substitiute beta xxx

Enjolras, Jehan and Combeferre are sitting on the floor, folding leaflets. Lamarque’s visit is getting closer and closer every day. The Sun is breaking through the windows, sitting gently on the coffee, dipping itself in the hot contents of their mugs. Courfeyrac and Marius are on their way by now, just getting another set of posters from the printing house. It’s going to be a long day followed by an even longer night.

Suddenly their phones ring in unison. All three of them. Enjolras frowns a little bit, still entirely devoted to folding the leaflets.

“Who is it from?” asks Combeferre, taking another stash of flyers. The smell of ink is lingering on his fingertips and he brings them to his mouth subconsciously .

“From R. He needs our help. Something about his cat,” answers Jehan.

Enjolras frowns a little and tries to refocus on his task, but his tongue has other plans.

“Did the Little Psycho finally decide to kill itself or somebody else?”

“No. Grantaire believes he ran away. He wants us to help him look for it.”

“Count me out,” says Enjolras, as he proceeds to rearrange the already-folded flyers. He considers the conversation to be over, but the look in Jehan’s eyes proves him wrong.

“It’s his cat. He loves that little furry thing.”

“More like little _fury ___thing,” Enjolras retorts. He doesn’t like Grantaire’s cat. It was bearable when the animal was tiny, fluffy and white, but now… it’s become big, wild, and full-on crazy. Enjolras blames it on the constant smell of turpentine that seems to be stuck to Grantaire’s studio flat. Whatever the cause was, the cat got bonkers. His shining moments include: Trying to bite through the Christmas lights’ cord, nearly drowning itself in a can of red paint, eating the entire content of a charcoal box, and most recently, bungee jumping from the wardrobe with Grantaire’s tie as a rope. Not to mention the countless times the silent assassin was trying to scratch Enjolras’ liver out. So, no... Enjolras is not fond of Grantaire’s beloved pet and he is not going to stop himself from doing something extremely important just to look for the stupid bloody cat.

“He needs us,” insist Jehan, his eyes pleading.

“If you want to go, then go. I’m staying,” responds Enjolras, looking at Combeferre. His friend seems to be weighing up the pros and cons. His eyes are squinted behind his glasses and he chews on his lower lip.

“I think we should go. You know Grantaire- he rarely asks for help.”

“Yet he constantly needs it.”

“It won’t be long. We will find the cat and then we will finish the job. I’m sure others will help us, too.”

With the two sets of eyes piercing through him Enjolras begins to falter.

“Alright” he says, turning his head. Once again, Grantaire manages to bring chaos into his neatly planned life. It’s like this guy is a freaking Tasmanian devil.

They are not the only ones that received Grantaire’s text. When they arrive they find Courfeyrac and Marius sitting on the couch, posters stashed behind them, and Bossuet, Bahorel and Feuilly looking through the window, clearly examining something.

“Thanks for coming,” says Grantaire hugging Jehan. He looks worried and a little bit tipsy. His big eyes are puffy, and lips swollen, as if he’s been biting into them for too long. He’s wearing a tight black T-shirt, stained with indigo paint, and washed-out jeans. He tries to smile, but the corners of his lips don’t go as high as he wants them to.

“What happened?” asks Combeferre.

“I don’t know, man. I came back from work and my cat just wasn’t here… He must have jumped out of the window.”

“He had to be desperate to leave you then,” says Eponine, entering the room with Cosette close behind her. “I told you that watching Sherlock in front of him would not end well. I brought Cosette, she wanted to help, hope you don’t mind.”

“The more the better,” says Grantaire taking a sip from the bottle of beer next to him. He fails to notice the awkward exchange of looks between Cosette and Marius.

“How come you left the window open though? You always close it before you leave.” Courfeyrac sounds more surprised than concerned.

Grantaire shifts uncomfortably, small blushes appearing on his cheeks.

“I didn’t.”

Courfeyrac cocks an eyebrow, still oblivious.

“Someone else left the apartment after me.”

“Who…?” asks Jehan

“ Was it the Gallery Guy again?” Even Eponine is shocked.

“Yeah,” admits Grantaire, and shrugs his arms dismissively.

“Nice one, R! Ponine told me he’s a hottie!” Courfeyrac smiles and messes Grantaire’s hair. “Fix me up with one of his friends will ya? I’ve been feeling a little bit lonely recently.”

“Can we just focus on the cat? Some of us have other things to do…” Enjolras does not like this conversation- for some reason it’s as annoying as getting a splinter under a nail. He can’t believe that Grantaire is still seeing that guy- what’s up with that? Is he _that_ good in bed? Because there’s no way Grantaire could fall for someone that ordinary, someone who would be too stupid to close the damn window. Someone…

“So, what’s the plan?” asks Combeferre.

“Well, Bahorel will stay in case Johnnie Walker decides to come back.”

Enjolras flinches; he forgot that Grantaire had called his cat Johnnie Walker, it was ridiculous.

“And I think that the rest of us should pair up and look for him.”

“Ok, let’s do that then. I’ll go with Jehan,” offers Courfeyrac, putting his head on poet’s arm.

“I’ll go with…” Eponine looks in Marius’ way, her eyes filled with longing, but before she can say his name Combeferre cuts in.

“… With me. I need to talk to you about something, so let’s killed two birds with one stone. And Marius, you want to go with Cossette, right?” With those two sentences Combeferre manages to make Cosette’s face happy, Marius’ red and happy, and Eponine’s just red. Red and angry, actually.

“Since my girl is at work, and my boy is too scared of getting toxoplasmosis to come, I think I’ll just have to settle with Feuilly,” says Bossuet.

“Guess you are stuck with me, then.” Grantaire sends Enjolras a crooked smile.

“Let’s get going,” snaps Enjolras still angry for no apparent reason.

It must be the pressure of the protest. It must be.

✳✳✳

Courfeyrac and Jehan are walking west. Well, at least Courfeyrac is. He has no idea what Jehan is doing. The young poet is either running or dancing, maybe both if that’s even possible. There are little round bells braided into his hair, and with every step, every breeze of wind slipping through his red locks creates a unique melody, different every time, but always wild and free.

Every now and then Jehan turns around to smile at Courfeyrac, and when he does the world stops for a nanosecond. He’s just so beautiful. Courfeyrac has noticed that for a while now. He catches himself sometimes just admiring the constellation of freckles at the bride of Jehan’s nose, or the perfect pout of his lower lip. There’s something utterly mesmerizing about Jehan, something that resonates with Courfeyrac’s heart. It might be the exotic scent of his hair or the shadow that his ears cast on his neck. It might be his elegant, slender fingers and the way they hold a pen when he's writing. It might be all of that, or something completely different, Courfeyrac doesn’t know for sure, doesn’t really want to know. Because if he knew, he would have to do something about it. And he doesn’t want to. He knows himself too well- lighthearted, easygoing and a flirt; he’s no match for someone so romantic, so devoted to the concept of eternal love, like Jehan. Courfeyrac is too scared of hurting his friend to even consider asking him out. He doesn’t want- when it all ends up in flames- to burn this fragile boy so hard it’ll leave scars.

“What are you thinking of?” asks Jehan, tilting his head a little bit.

“Where the cat might be,” lies Courfeyrac, hoping the redness of his ears won’t give him away.

“Where would you go if you were a cat?”

“I have no idea. And you?”

“Somewhere only cats can go. To the roof, probably. I would go to the roof of the highest building in the neighborhood. I would sit on the brink and admire the view. I would feel invincible and free and wild. I would jump from building to building and, for a second, it would be like flying, like I’m immortal… Yep, that’s what I would do.”

Courfeyrac blinks for a little bit, trying to blink away the need to kiss the top of Jehan’s head.

“I don’t think people will let us climb their roofs just because we want to check if Johnnie Walker is hiding there.”

“I wish they would.”

“Me too,” answers Courfeyrac, wincing a little bit. There’s something wet on his eyelashes. He looks up- the sky is crowded with clouds now.

“It’s raining!!!” screams Jehan. Only he can be excited for something like that. He skips happily and proceeds to take off his shoes.

“What are you doing?!” Courfeyrac watches him with bewilderment.

“It’s raining, so I’m going to dance,” explains Jehan like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. He’s barefoot now, his feet touching the dirty grayness of the pavement. There are people watching him, but he doesn’t care. He unbraids his hair and shakes his head. The rain is getting heavier and heavier with every second, as if someone ripped the sky open. The water is sticking Jehans hair together, making his clothes thicker and more transparent. Courfeyrac can only stand and watch.

The street is empty now, other people hiding from the rain in their homes or some shops nearby. They are the only ones left, catching the cold droplets with their skin and, in Jehan’s case, with their tongues.

“Don’t you just love rain?” he asks, twirling like a ballerina.

Right now I do, thinks Courfeyrac, and before he can stop himself, before his brain starts to work again, he puts his hands in his pockets and whispers into the rain.

“Go out with me.”

His words fall on the ground more quietly than the raindrops.

And before he can get an answer, his phone buzzes.

✳✳✳

Cosette and Marius are walking north, an awkward silence following them. It’s been following them ever since Grantaire’s birthday party, which was two weeks ago and Cosette is fed up with the situation. She looks at Marius stealthily- his face is still red as a brick, and there’s sweat pattern appearing on the collar of his shirt. Cosette is tired of waiting so, after another street of silence, she speaks up.

“ Why didn’t you call me? I thought you wanted to go out with me.”

Marius’ face has gotten even redder now and Cosette starts to worry if it’ll burst.

“I wanted to… I just…”

“What, you just changed your mind? Is that it? Was I attractive to you only after you drank half of Les Amis’ liquor stash at the party?”

“NO!!!” Marius looks terrified now. He trips a little and Cosette has to steady him with her arm.

“Then why didn’t you call me?” she asks. Her face is so close to his, that she can see every single one of his freckles. She can almost count his pale eyelashes.

“ I panicked. I wasn’t sure if you really wanted to go out with me.”

Cosette pulls herself away from him and lets out an impatient sigh.

“I thought I made myself clear that day. I kissed you, remember? Do you think I go around kissing every random guy I see?”

Marius just shakes his head. He’s twisting his arm out and looks like a lost boy.

There’s no way they are able to find an elephant, let alone a cat, at this situation. Cosette rolls her eyes and sits on the wooden bench, her ankles crossed together like the proper lady she is.

“ I’m sorry, Cosette, it’s just that you are so pretty and kind, and so perfect. It just paralyzes me. There’s no way you would want to go out with someone like me. I blabber like an idiot when you’re around.”

“ Yes you do, especially now. Are you going to sit?” She pats the empty spot next to her.

Marius sits next to her, and for a moment he’s a bundle of awkwardness. His eyes are shut and he looks like he’s fighting with himself. Cosette waits patiently, half-heartedly looking around for a cat that’s nowhere to be seen.

“ I like you, Cosette, I like you very, very much. Ever since I saw you for the first time.”

Cosette’s face beams with joy now. The sparkle in her eyes can only mean one thing.

“ I like you too, you blabbering idiot” she practically whispers into his ear. “Are you going to be a man now and ask me out?

Marius smiles and stands up.

“ Yes, in fact I am. Will you go out with me on Friday?”

Cosette pretends to be considering his offer for a while, but she can’t keep it up for long. She laughs sweetly and jumps from the bench.

“Yes, I will”

“She said yes!!!” screams Marius, and the whole street can hear him.

Cosette wraps her arms around Marius, their foreheads pressed together. It’s raining now, but they don’t seem to notice.

✳✳✳

Eponine and Combeferre are walking east.

“You’re angry with me,” notices Combeferre after few minutes.

“No shit, Sherlock!” she snarls, and goes across the street to ask an old lady if she’s seen a white cat with paint stains (she hasn’t).

“Because I told Marius and Cosette to go together?”

“Yep.”

“They like each other, you know that.”

“And you know that I like Marius.”

She doesn’t even look at Combeferre, she is so angry.

“I’m not going to apologize,” he simply says.

“Whatever.”

They walk very quickly now, calling the lost cat by his name, looking under the benches and dumpsters, asking people, showing them pictures. But Johnnie Walker is nowhere to be seen.

They are passing by Starbucks when Eponine’s phone rings.

She looks worried when she answers it.

“Yes, this is she… Yes.. Yes I’ll be there right away. Is he ok? Yes. Thank you. Goodbye”. She hangs up and swears under her breath.

“Is everything alright? asks Combeferre, alarmed by the look on Eponine’s face.

“No... Yes... I need to go.”

She’s clutching her bag so tight that her knuckles turn white, and the look on her face is a picture of utter sadness- her dark eyes clouded her mouth trembling.

“What happened, Ponine?”

“ Nothing, it’s just the school called. My brother has gotten into a fight, I need to go talk to the principal”

“I’ll go with you.”

Like always with Combeferre, it is more a statement than an offer.

“No, you should keep on looking for Johnnie.”

“What’s more important: your brother or this cat?”

They take the underground. For the whole ride Eponine is biting her nails. She stops only when Combeferre takes her hand into his.

“It’s going to be ok,” he whispers. She shoots him a grateful smile, and the thing with Marius and Cosette is forgotten.

When they go out of the underground she practically runs all the way into the principal’s office.

“Where’s my brother? Is he alright? I want to see him. What happened?!” All those words falling out of her mouth at the same time, stumbling over one another.

The principal - a tall, thin woman - presses her lips together.

“The school nurse is taking care of him. He beat up a pupil. This has happened too many times, Miss Thenardier. I’m afraid he’s going to have to suffer the consequences of his behavior.”

Eponine swallows hard, her face pale with fear.

“And by consequences you mean…?”

“Expulsion”

There’s no more air in Eponine’s lungs, she shrinks and falls on the chair.

“No… no… you can’t… He’s a good kid, he really is.”

“Is there any other way we can solve this problem?” asks Combeferre, calmly.

“And you are…?”

“I’m Combeferre. Miss Thenardier’s friend.”

The principal is confused only for a second. She and Combeferre measure each other, their gazes calculating and cold.

“Go see if Gav is all right, I’ll take care of it,” whispers Combeferre in Eponine’s ear. She wants to protest, but the principal gives her a little nod. It looks like they share some kind of an understanding, the principal and Combeferre. Eponine doesn’t know if that’s a good thing, but she’s been friends with Combeferre for a long time now and knows that, when he says he’ll take care of something, he always does. So, she takes her purse and leaves the office.

Combeferre finds her twenty minutes later. There’s a winning smile on his face and he shows her and Gavroche two thumbs up.

He squats, to be on the same level as young Thenardier.

“You have gotten yourself two months of detention, buddy.”

Eponine’s lets out a sigh of relief- it’s a miracle.

“That’s a big bruise right there, let me see, I’m a doctor.” Combeferre gently touches the greenish blot under young Thenardier’s eye.

“No, you’re not!!!” protests Gavroche with a laugh, but calmly lets Combeferre perform a routine check-up. They are very comfortable with each other, and for a moment Eponine feels blessed. Because it’s not only Combeferre, but Courfeyrac, Grantaire, Jehan, and even Enjolras, too. They all treat her brother like a family member. They help him with his homework, take him to football matches, and play computer games with him,) occasionally letting him win. She is forever grateful for that.

“I see the nurse took good care of you, I’m afraid you’re going to get out of this one without a scratch, my friend”

“Not even a little one?”

“Nope. Not even a teeny-tiny one.

Gavroche makes a disappointed face and Eponine laughs. She hugs Combeferre with all of her strength, nearly breaking his bones.

“Thank you. For everything,” she breathes into his neck, giving him goose bumps.

“You’re welcome.”

“How did you do it though? She was dead-set on kicking him out.”

“Being friends with Enjolras for so long has got its perks. I know how get people on my side.”

“You’re my hero,” she laughs, and gives him a quick peck on the cheek. Turning around to scold her brother for being a little pest, she can’t see how Combeferre's eyes widen, nor the way his chest shakes a little, not being able to control his racing heart.

They drop Gavroche at the detention, then head out of the school.

“Oh shit, it’s raining!” Eponine screams when they’re on the street. She puts her hands on her wet shoulders and shivers a little. She’s wearing a checked shirt, tank top and a pair of jeans, not really the best outfit for a downpour. 

Combeferre takes of his jacket and puts it around her without a word.

 _It’s so natural to him, he doesn’t even think about it_ , notices Eponine.

“Thank you, but you don’t have to do that. I don’t want you to get cold.”

“Don’t worry about me,” he answers, but she can see that he’s freezing. His T-shirt is so soaked through that his abdomen muscles are showing. And holy shit! They look nice.

“Let’s run to the tube,” smiles Eponine, pulling her hair in a messy bun.

By the time they got into the station, they’re completely wet. There’s water in Eponine’s trainers, encircling her toes; her makeup is gone and her hair is a bundle of mess; but, for some reason, all of it feels good.

They both pant a little bit, trying to catch a breath.

“That was fun,” she says, smiling crinkles appearing by her eyes.

“Yeah, it was,” Combeferre smiles back, and suddenly Eponine is aware of how close they’re standing. She looks up and for the first time in her life, she notices that Combeferre, like Marius, has got blue eyes. It’s just a different kind - Marius’ blue always fogged out by dreams, so light that they're almost ethereal, soft and paled down; Combeferre’s blue, clear and piercing like his personality, intensive and straightforward and a little bit colder, but in a good way, like an ice pack that’s been put on the burned leg. Eponine realizes she’s been staring and tries to back out, but she stumbles on the stairs. Combeferre catches her in his grip and for one heartbeat she’s scared he is going to kiss her. But he doesn’t, he lets her go with a friendly pat on the shoulder. She sighs with relief, because Combeferre, as great as he is, isn’t Marius Pontmercy.

And they both know that.

✳✳✳

Grantaire and Enjolras are walking south.

“I can’t believe my cat run away,” complains Grantaire hunching his shoulders.

Enjolras sniggers, “ I can’t believe he didn’t run away sooner.”

He really can’t- when Grantaire decided to keep the cat, he expected the poor animal to last a week.

“You barely manage to keep yourself alive, how can you take care of another living being?” he asked Grantaire that day.

But it somehow worked out- the cat got used to eating leftovers that Les Amis brought regularly and Grantaire almost always remembered to change the gravel in Johnnie’s dish.

It was all going well until today, when a certain someone decided to leave the window open.

“So, you and this Gallery Guy, is it serious?” asks Enjolras, trying to sound casual. And he shouldn’t be trying, it shouldn’t bug him so much. Why does it bug him?

“ Naah, we’re just fuckin’,” answers Grantaire dismissively.

That doesn’t appease Enjolras though. He wants to asks something else about the Gallery Guy, but Grantaire changes the subject.

“How’s the preparation for the big protest going?”

“Do you really want to know or are you just being polite?”

“Neither. I just don’t want to talk to you about my sex life, Enjolras.” There’s a strange look in Grantaire’s eyes and Enjolras can’t figure out what it means.

It’s always like that with Grantaire, that guy is unpredictability wrapped in enigma, and with a nice bow of issues on top.

“Well, it’s going good. The police escort is already booked, the route card is done, and now we are making posters, leaflets and collecting signatures on our new petition, you should sign it.”

“I should do a lot of things, like get my shit together or start eating something that is less than 60% fat.”

_Or sleep with someone who remembers to close the freaking window._

“ So, you won’t sign the petition?”

“What is it for? Free beer for every student?” Grantaire grins widely.

Enjolras shots him a look that says: judging you so hard right now, but the grins only grows bigger. It’s like Grantaire’s smiles feed on Enjolras disapproval.

“It’s about animal rights. Do you know how they treat chickens at the farms?”

“Really Enj, that's what you’re worrying right now? Chickens? What happened to “inequality in UK is the biggest since 1985”? Or to ”the rights of homosexuals are being ignored”? Or to the feminist movement you were so caught up in last year?”

“I still care about those things deeply,” answers Enjolras, feeling offended. And he does, the petition is being done autonomously to Lamarque’s visit.

“That’s your problem- you care too deeply about too many things at the same time- you’re going to get wrinkles. I think I already can see them, let me take a look.”

“Is everything a joke to you?!” Enjolras feels his blood pressure coming up. Why does Grantaire winds him up so much, does he get a kick out of it or what?

“Only funny stuff,” is Grantaire’s response.

“I would rather care too much, than not care at all. What’s the use of living if you don’t care about anything or anyone?” Enjolras knows he shouldn’t say it, but he still does. It’s like talking to Grantaire brings out the worst in him. The cruelest things come to his mind and he lets them out. He is supposed to keep them on a leash, but he doesn’t. And then they bite.

Grantaire’s eyes darken.

“Yeah, what’s the use…” he mutters, more to himself than to Enjolras.

“I didn’t mean it like that…”

“Yes you did. You always do. Let’s not dwell on that, we’ve got a cat to find,” he smiles bitterly, ”See there’s one thing I care about, my bloody cat.”

It’s raining now, the raindrops sneaking through Grantaire’s dark forest of hair, finding their way to his face. Enjolras puts the collar of his jacket up, he just wants to find the damn cat and go home to his flyers, protests and things that are easier to understand than the black-haired artist standing next to him, trying to light a cigarette in the pouring rain with shaky hands.

They stand next to a brick wall for a while, Grantaire lost in his thoughts, Enjolras looking at him, trying to figure out his mood from the puzzle pieces of his face features.

“Remember that time he knocked over the bucket of black paint when we were painting the protest signs? He looked like a freaking chicken, with his furr glued together and his eyes nearly busting out of his sockets.”

Enjolras laughs, of course he remembers.

“Yeah, you and I tried to give him a bath later,” he rolls up a sleeve, three four red lines going from his elbow to the index finger, chiselled into his left arm, “ I still have the scars.”

Grantaire smiles, breathing out a thin serpentine of smoke.

“We need to find him,” he whispers and Enjolras nods.

They’re walking past the big barricade of boxes near the recently vacated restaurant when Grantaire freezes.

“I think I heard something.” He turns around and starts screaming for his cat. For the first time this day, his voice sounds desperate, showing the worry he’s been stowing in the back of his mind for hours. The rain is so heavy, it blurs the vision, wet lines connecting earth and the sky like strings. Grantaire is slowly making his way through the boxes and Enjolras half-willingly follows him. He’s got trouble breathing with the torrent pouring through him and he can swear there’s not a dry spot left on his skin, his fingers are wrinkled and he can’t feel his legs.

“ I don’t think he’s here!” screams Enjolras, but Grantaire ignores him, busy trying to locate the non-existent meowing.

Enjolras shakes his head, this is crazy, _there’s no way that this cat could march all the way down here._

He wants to grab Grantaire and drag him out, before this whole intricately built construction can collapse on them, but he slips on the wet ground. Nearly falling, he knocks off a couple of boxes. Under one of them, there’s Grantaire’s cat.

“Grantaire! Here! Here’s Johnnie!!!” screams Enjolras, clearly losing his mind.

Grantaire runs like crazy, splashing water around, making small waterfalls.

“Where is he? Is he okay?!”

“He looks fine, but he’s not alone…”

“What do you mean by that? Oh my God, he’s got a girlfriend! Johnnie, you son of a queen, you left me for a girl?!” Grantaire laughs so hard his shoulders shake. He picks up his cat and cradles him with freezing hands, unusual fondness pouring out. Enjolras shakes his head disbelievingly, Grantaire rarely showed any affection and now he’s nearly suffocating the cat with his feelings. It is so out of character that Enjolras is considering having hypothermia-related hallucinations.

Grantaire shakes his head, water escaping the black mop of his hair.

“What to do now? I cannot separate him from his love, can I? Just my luck, even my freaking cat has got better love life than me.”

Enjolras wants to say that he doesn’t think that cats can fall in love- really this isn’t Disney- but his friends looks so blissful, he bites his tongue.

“You’re not getting another cat,” he warns him. “Look what has become of this one. You’re a bad influence, R.”

“Then you take it,” offers Grantaire, picking the other cat from the ground. It’s ginger, wet and smelly. Enjolras winces.

“No way! You know how I feel about cats.”

“No, but I know how you feel about chickens. It’s time you do something for the feline community as well.” Grantaire is nearly shoving the cat into Enjolras’ throat, at the same time succeeding in making the best puppy face ever. Enjolras can’t believe it's the same cynical drunkard he knows.

He looks at the newfound cat, then at Johnnie, then at Grantaire, and feels his heart melting.

“I’m one hundred percent sure I’m going to regret it, but okay. I’ll take her.”

“Yes!!!” Grantaire bumps his fist into the air. “That is so cool. Jehan is going to write a poem about it. Kitty love or something. Come on, kitty love, just last a year…”

“Grantaire, you’re drunk, let’s just go home.” Enjolras shakes his head and takes the wet cat from his friend, shaking hands

“Why is it that everytime I associate with you, trouble follows?”

“Oh come on, you know you love me, xoxo gossip girl.”

“God please, don’t tell me you watch that?!”

“Only because one of the characters strangely reminds me of you,” answers Grantaire, nudging Enjolras and taking out his phone. He messages the others that Johnnie is ok.  
The ginger cat purrs slightly, shifting in Enjolras’ arms.

“Isn't she the lucky one- having you as her owner. What are we going to name her?”

“I can sense you already have an idea.”

“How about Brandy Alexander?”

“No, Grantaire. Just no.”

**Author's Note:**

> SO THIS IS THE THIRD PART! sorry for the lack of angst, I will make up for it next time.  
> And since I've read that Aaron Tveit likes Taylor Swift I feel better about naming my chapters after her songs.  
> As always SORRY FOR MY MISTAKES (I'm still not British for some reason) oh and the exR part was inspired by Breakfast at Tiffany's of course.  
> My tumblr is sundance_girl  
> love you all xxxx  
> EDIT: special thanks to my lovely flatmate Paula for noticing all the mistakes I've missed.  
> EDIT 2: I haven't realized it before, but some of my headcannons in this chapter might've been inluenced by truethingsproved's TRTMB series. (I mean the Cosette Marius part ). Yeah TRTMB is the best.


End file.
